


A Journey

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Physical Abuse, Rape, Sexual Abuse, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 22:49:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12375756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After Harry's death Baelish has brokered a match with Quentyn Martell of Sunspear. Petyr, Sansa and her maids Mya and Laenys leave the Vale to travel south





	A Journey

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the warnings. Thank you

The Eyrie. Seat of House Arryn and it’s flailing little Lord. The white washed walls shining atop the Giant’s Lance. The Gates of the Moon. Seat of House Royce and the proud Lord Nestor. Guarding the ascent to the White castle high above.

And the ancient Hall of Ironoaks. Seat of Lady Anya Waynwood, elderly but far from frail. It was here that she had first set eyes on her fiancé Harry Hardyng. The tall, handsome young man had immediately been cause of relief on her side.

Harry had been kind to her. In his own way. There were things he deemed unfit for women and he preferred it if she stayed indoors. She didn’t mind that. Despite never having had a head for figures she returned to her previous tasks like embroidery and sewing. Some nights she sang.

About a year this had been allowed to go on unchallenged. Then he had returned from wherever he had been plotting. She noticed how disappointed he was that she had not yet borne the heir to vale a son. Nor a girl.

And of course, the mere fact that Robin was still alive and in the care of Nestor Royce hadn’t served to lighten his mood in the slightest. It had been then that he had threatened her the first time. Gone was the camaraderie he had feigned. Replaced by fury to be taken out on the only one he knew wouldn’t defend herself.

It had also been the beginning of him getting closer to her than she had ever wanted. Leaning over her when she played the harp or holding her too close for comfort. So close that she was able to feel his arousal. She had almost gagged then.

And then finally she had become pregnant. No matter how much he might have wanted it, it also seemed to disgust him how her slender figure changed. She was relieved that he no longer touched her the way he did before and she and Harry were able to enjoy her pregnant body.

Jasper, so named for the late Lord of the Vale, had been born early. Almost too early the midwives feared. But the tiny boy had fought bitterly for his life. Everyone had adored him and showered him in affection. And it seemed to bear fruits as little Jasper Hardyng thrived.

And then the unthinkable had happened. Harry had died in a skirmish with the newly armed hill tribes and shortly after he had been buried, Jasper had been forced to give up a battle his tiny body could no longer bear to fight.

She had grieved then. Grieved for the husband and the son. For a future that now would never come to pass. The peace it would have brought her after the trials of King’s Landing. She had feared the future then.

How right she had been would be proven in the next months. But first she had remained in the custody of Anya Waynwood, who stoutly refused to give up the grieving woman to the scheming lord as she put it.

Half a year this brought her. Until one day he had returned, a marriage contract in his wake. She had bit her lip then. Another marriage, another man she did not know. And still she was grieving for her husband and son.

And still he made advances on her. With the marriage contract Anya no longer had any possibility to withhold her from him. Their first stop on their journey south would be his own keep on the Fingers. Why they would have to go there he would not divulge. Neither did anything he did hint at his true intentions.

They stayed in the drafty tower for almost a week. It was here that he once again picked up his habits. Sweettalking her, occasional brushes of his hand against hers. Compliments for her singing. Every single of these things made her shiver.

Finally, they left the Pellet Keep as he jokingly named it. Two days later they arrived at Heart’s Home. Squat the castle of House Corbray sat upon a low rise. Three sides protected by steeply rising slopes. They would stay almost two weeks.

Why, she never found out. It just was a relief that the cruel and hot-tempered Lyn wasn’t there for their entire stay. Instead his older brother Lyonel, who had been a supporter of him, welcomed them.

She caught him staring more often than not. His touches became more forward, occurred more often. And yet his eyes lacked the kindness that had been in them before her marriage to Harry. Before they had left the safety of the Eyrie.

They were hard, unyielding, threatening. There was an undertone to his sweet words now. During the second week she twice caught him staring at her while she pretended to be asleep, too scared to actually do so.

Then the Bloody Gate. Another stop. Only for the night he assured her. She wished it could have been longer. The Vale had become home. It had become security. Did not want to travel through the mountains where Harry had died. She did not want to leave. She made the mistake of telling him so.

He had grabbed her arm with an iron grip. Pulling her onto his lap. She had felt it then. Tried feebly to get away. But he wouldn’t let her. Whispering into her ear, so close that his lips grazed her skin. As if on coincidence his hand had brushed over her breast as he let her go. She had thrown up that night.

The next morning, she had been on edge. Slowly they had ridden out of the Bloody Gate and through the narrow canyon that led into the mountains. She had been trying to keep as much distance as possible between her and him but it had been fruitless. He had even gone as far as taking her horse’s rein under the excuse that it was safer that way as she wasn’t an accomplished rider.

After a few miles they had found a gang of ragged looking men waiting for them. And to her great surprise and horror he had simply dismissed the Hardyng guards that had accompanied their lady until now. He told them that with the new engagement she no longer was their lady.

Originally, he had wanted to dismiss her two maids as well. She had protested this vehemently. Not only for the most obvious reasons a lady would need maids but also because Mya Stone and Laenys Waynwood had become her fast friends. Of course, that was something she didn’t mention him.

The cruel glint in his eye as he relented made her shiver violently. Sh had averted her gaze and remained silent for the remainder of their day’s journey. But when they retired to their tents there had been no escape anymore.

He had insisted on sleeping in the same tent. Despite her refusals. Had insisted that they should share a mattress and blanket for warmth. Had held her in an iron grip, nails digging into her skin so there was no more argument.

She had woken that night from his fingers ghosting over her clothed body. Touching her breasts and running down there. His wormy lips pressed to the skin of her neck. She had barely been able to stifle a disgusted sound.

Noticing that she was awake he hadn’t stopped. Just pulled her even closer to him. Threatening her what would happen should she make a noise, call for help. She hadn’t. His hands had continued their unwelcome ministrations.

The next morning, he had once again taken her horse’s reins, preventing any try of hers to stay away from him. She had not been able to talk to her maids either. But they had managed to exchange glances.

It was the first day after they had emerged from the mountains. Or rather the first night. They had erected the camp at the foot of the last hills, her tent a small distance away from the others. She had learned not to question anything. It only resulted in those glares and of late even in painful revenge during the night.

Once again, he had entered her tent once she had gone to bed. She pretended to be asleep already. He didn’t fall for it. He never did. She heard a dry chuckle as he slipped beneath the covers behind her and pulled her close. She shivered at the touch.

It was later that night when she was woken not only by his increasingly rough touches but by him pressing himself against her. She felt how he kept pushing his hardness against her again and again. She whimpered, not able to keep her disgust and fear silent.

He stopped. She didn’t dare to hope that he would remain that way. Of course, he wouldn’t. Rough hands squeezed her breasts until she wanted to scream in pain. But by then a sweaty hand had covered her mouth.

She tried to bite into it. A low thread was his only response as he violently turned her onto her back. He held her down with his weight, using his free hand to push her skirts up before grabbing her hands and holding them fixed above her head.

She tried to evade what had been coming since they had left Ironoakes. But he was stronger and she couldn’t escape. Not able to cry out as he pushed into her roughly. Again and again, harder and more violent each time until she was sure that she would pass out from the pain it caused her.

When he was done he simply rolled off. Ordering her not to make a single sound or she would rue it. And so silent tears streamed over her face while he was snoring next to her a sick smile on his face. She felt so sick then that she rose and left the tent to throw up.

When she returned he was waiting for her. His look was threatening. Telling her that he hadn’t given her leave to leave the tent or even get up. That she was to do exactly what he told her. Then he slapped her. More than once. Hard.

As she curled up in pain he snorted. Asking her if she believed that this would help her escape her punishment. Realization had dawned on her then. A horrible and sickening realization. She tried to back up. Away from him and back outside.

But there was no escape. A second time that night she found herself beneath him. Seeing the sickening almost ecstatically shining eyes above her. She closed her eyes but he just slapped her and ordered her to look at him as he pushed into her again and again, just as rough as he had the first time.

She had barely been able to stand up the next morning. She was felt so sore down there, her breasts marked with dark bruises. It was Mya who noticed the blood on her shift. She had to hold her friend back, knowing that they would just get punished for any attempt on his life.

Riding had been torture that day. It seemed endlessly going on and on as the landscape changed around them. Darkness had long fallen when they arrived at an inn. She knew that there would be no rest for her when he had ordered a room for him and his daughter.

They stayed two nights in the inn. She realized that it was the same the king’s party had stopped at on their back to the capital. It had seen its own share of the war she noticed. The innkeep had changed and the walls were scorched.

The next two months they had spent at Harrenhal. When she questioned him why they didn’t proceed to Sunspear with all haste to fulfil the contract he had punished her again. And again. At some point she had stopped caring.

Then he had left on some business. For several weeks she had remained in the gigantic castle on her own with only Laenys and Mya and the rascals he employed as guard for company. She was not permitted to leave her chambers.

But she didn’t mind. She had started to feel exhausted rather quickly over the past weeks. In addition, she couldn’t shake the queasy feeling that lasted throughout the day and most of the nights. As a result, she barely ate and was more than content to remain within her own room, resting or sewing. It was the day of his return to the castle when she realized that she hadn’t had her moon blood for at least two moons.

Yet there was no way around his continued attention. It hurt even more than before. The disgust and despair grew exponentially when she figured that she was carrying his child. A few days later they left for Maidenpool and she hoped to be able to find some knowledgeable woman to help her get rid of this thing.

But of course, everything developed in a different way. Once they had arrived she once again found herself locked inside her room, not allowed to even look out the window for the risk of being seen. She cried herself to sleep every night. And every night he laughed at that.

But one day of their two weeks stay he came to her to show her a document he had fashioned out and had her sign it along with a septon he had brought. She had not dared to ask what she was signing in fear of his punishment.

From Maidenpool they had travelled west, skirting the God’s Eye and sleeping in inns or on the ground when there were none. She knew that by the time they had reached the village of Stoney Sept her body was clearly showing the signs of his child within her.

Yet he didn’t notice. Or pretended not to. He always took her clothed, refused to see her naked as if her body which he used nightly disgusted him. Whatever it was she didn’t care. Of course, the child could not be held to account for the father’s sins, yet she wanted nothing as much as getting it out of her belly.

It almost bordered on a miracle that she managed to get out of the inn and find a woman who was willing to do the deed. But it was too big a miracle to be true. As soon as the crone had seen her without her dress she had denied her. Saying that she was too far along to risk it.

She had lost all that remained of her dignity then. Falling to her knees and begging the old woman to do it. Not caring if it would have cost her life. The crone had smiled kindly then. Helping her back to her feet and holding her as she sobbed.

She had returned late that night. He had not been amused. Not at her leaving the inn. Not at her returning late. Not at her distraught appearance. He had hurt her that night, worse than before. It had been similar with Jasper. After a certain time, she had not been able to fulfil her marital duties to her husband anymore because of the pain it caused her.

Not that he cared about it. He never did of course. The next day had not even dawned when they had ridden off, striking south west towards Silverhall. He had not permitted her to sleep however briefly. Making sure of that by slapping her or twisting her already over sensitive breasts painfully whenever she drifted off.

It was the same the next night. They were miles from any human settlement by then, having ridden hard and on good roads. As usual her tent was put up a stone throw from the others. She felt nauseous and sore from the hard riding and his child inside her.

But as always, he didn’t care for her distress as he threw her down onto the mattress like a limp doll. She was so sore that she couldn’t help but whimper in pain as he took what he wanted. She knew that her face would bear the marks on the morrow.

But it wasn’t over after that. Again, he kept her awake, cruelly pinching and smacking her. And sometime after the hour of the wolf he would take her again. Iron hands turned her on her belly hand lifted her hips.

She wanted to scream, to cry but the pain was so much that she couldn’t even move. And it went on and on. Longer than it ever had or so she felt. She supposed later that she had passed out from the pain while he was still taking his pleasure from her.

She woke while it was still dark. He was snoring next to her apparently completely satisfied. She shivered in disgust as she watched him. Looking down she saw that there was once again blood on her shift. Cramps shook her and had her double up in pain. She could barely move.

That was it she decided. She had nothing left to lose. No dignity to keep. No life that was worth anything. A glint on his discarded belt caught her eye. She reached over and grabbed his dagger. Her movement woke him and she found her arm in his iron grip.

And somehow, from somewhere she found the strength to pull away from him. She jumped from the bed, adrenalin surging. He followed her, his face threatening what would happen now. He lunged and she didn’t move.

As if somebody had slowed the time passing she watched things happening. As if she was standing by and simply watching instead of forcing the dagger into his neck. Pulling it out. Burying it onto his chest. And then again and again until her white shift was red and his blood running over hands, arms and face.

Only slowly she resurfaced. Realizing what she had done. Knowing what it meant. She rose from where she was kneeling over the mutilated body of her torturer. Mechanically she washed herself and dressed.

Quietly she walked over to the tent where Mya and Laenys were sleeping. Not even an hour later they were gone from the camp, galloping north and away from the events of the night. She wanted to make for Riverrun.

Two days later they arrived in a small holdfast named Acorn Hall. Lady Smallwood welcomed them and didn’t ask any questions. They were able to rest there for almost a week before they left again. This time with an escort flying Hardyng colours and heading south towards Dorne.

The longer their journey took, the further her pregnancy got, the more difficult the journey became. In the end they only made a few miles each day. Still they didn’t call for the hospitability of the greater houses of the Reach.

Evading the castles of Longtable, Grassy Vale and Cider Hall. Instead they called at inns in the smaller towns of Tumbleton, Bitterbridge and Ashford. By the time they had reached the last she was almost eight moons along and it became nigh impossible to ride any faster than a slow walk.

As the small castle of Nightsong rose in the distance it started. She screamed in shock as the wetness of her broken waters soaked her skirts and saddle. Shortly after she doubled up under the first contractions.

Mya and Laenys who had both been with her when she had given birth to Jasper immediately realized what was happening. And all of them knew that it was too early again. Yet they didn’t speak. Mya took her reins as she continued to whimper in pain.

It seemed hours later when they arrived at the castle. Immediately being given into the care of the castle’s master and a midwife. As dusk fell she held her daughter in her arms. And no matter that she had not wanted this child or that Catelyn favoured her father’s looks, she loved her as soon as she lay her eyes on her.

 


End file.
